Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the press. I’m so very glad that you could join me today. It’s an auspicious occasion. You have all been invited to the very first screening of my new work, a film that I have decided to call The Murder Room.
Now, before we start, I wanted to take just a moment of your more than valuable time to talk a little about the film, and how it fits into my oeuvre, my canon, my body of work, as it were.
We have had a fraught relationship at times, you and I. There’s no point in denying it. I have the evidence here. Unlike some directors, I believe that it’s important to read all my reviews. Here’s the file. Well, the most recent one. I have several like it back at my office, just as thick.
I should be flattered by the sheer amount that has had written about me and my films over the years. What’s that old saw? There’s no such thing as bad publicity? Well, if that’s the case, then this folder should not exist. I’ve filled it with all your poison, all your trite and petty criticisms. It’s heavy with your effluvia, ladies and gentlemen. Positively dripping with it.
Let’s have a little look, shall we? Just at random.
Ah. Ah yes. Mr. Conroy of the Times-Battery. How are you, James? Not too early for you today, I hope. Here’s a favourite. “Umberto Flac is a film-maker in the same way that my grandmother was Field-Marshal Montgomery. He makes horror films that are not frightening, comedies that aren’t funny, thrillers that will send the viewer to sleep with a disturbing predictability.”
Very good, Mr. Conroy. Most scathing. Don’t flinch when I’m waving your press notices at you, dear boy. They’re your words, after all. You should stand by them.
What now… aaah. Miss Panover of the Tribute. I’ve always admired your work, Jeannie. A pity you can’t return the compliment. “I’m not convinced that Flac knows the first thing about the essentials of film-making. We should be grateful, though, that he has chosen a profession in which the only harm he can do is to the hapless film critic. If he directed traffic in the same way that he directs an actor, we should find multiple pile-ups to be a regular part of city life.”
Harsh, Jeannie. But I do like that line about me only being able to cause harm to people like you. Amusing, really, considering the circumstances.
However. I am not here to mull over the past. We are here to celebrate the future, a new, brave step in my journey as a cineaste. Clearly, I need to persuade you, my critics, that there is more to Umberto Flac than he has exhibited up to now. You know me as Flac the guru of gore, Flac the master of suspense.
With The Murder Room, I, Umberto Flac, move into the realms of the avant-garde and experimental. I move beyond the screen, removing the final barrier between myself and my audience. I embark on a mission to bring true terror and suspense to all that dare to see this film.
I have transcended traditional narrative with this film. In it’s three-and-a-half hour running time, The Murder Room will attempt to disorientate and incapacitate the viewer without the usual impediments of plot and character.
I have chosen an editing regime whereby images are stroboscopically intercut at a rate of twenty-four frames per second of film. These images have been culled from a library I came across last year somewhere in the Philippines. Atrocity footage. Medical archive. Pornography of the sort that will destroy reputations and lead to prison terms and the opprobrium of society.
The soundtrack has, for the most part, been taken from this footage. Where necessary, I have added the screams of tortured children, females and animals to this mix. The soundtrack will be played at a decibel level that my captive Dolby engineer ensures me will cause the listener almost instant nausea and pain. Not enough to break the eardrum, dear me no. That would be an escape. Further, I will also be transmitting an infrasound pulse at 9Hz during the screening. This has been known to cause distortion of the eyeball, leading to hallucinations. To an extent, then, what each of you see today will be a deeply personal experience.
You see? Already just as I begin to describe what I have accomplished with this film, several of you are reduced to frantic tears. I have caused a reaction before I’ve even started. Some of you, I think, have begun to ascertain the true meaning of the title of my film. The Murder Room is a place that does not exist on film. It is a place that is created by the film. No-one here will leave this room unaffected by what I have created. Some, the weak, the small-minded, will not leave at all.
This is an important piece of art, and I will not have it’s chances in the international marketplace ruined by your indolence, and inability to see past your own prejudices. Your refusal to take me seriously has been the spur that has led me to this point. I have become a desperate man. Clearly so, as I have taken you from your beds in the middle of the night, to this one, very special screening. For once, you will provide me with the respect I deserve.
I will not have walkouts. I will not have yelled comments. You will sit, quietly, and watch my film. The straps, eye-clamps and ballgags will see to that. There will be time for questions at the end.
Please, enjoy the last film you will ever see.
Hello? You, in the booth. Goggles and headphones on. You may run the film.
I will be outside. Critics have always terrified me.
